"Early in the battle, the British were taking a heavy toll on the American ships, principally because the British cannons were much more accurate at long distances. When the British destroyed the Lawrence, Perry took the ship's flag and transferred to the Niagara. After Perry moved to the Niagara, the battle began to turn for the Americans. Before Perry's arrival on the Niagara, this ship had hardly engaged the British fleet. Now, the Niagara and Perry inflicted heavy cannon fire on the British ships. The commander of every British ship was killed or wounded, leaving the British ships under the command of junior officers with limited experience. Perry took advantage of this situation. The Niagara rammed the British lead ship while the sailors fired rifles at the British seamen. By nightfall, the British had lowered their flag and surrendered to Perry, who was only twenty-seven years old."

- The Battle of Lake Erie

You know the drill. Decisive game, road, Buffalo team. You feel it in your gut. It's a familiar feeling. You first felt it when Ronnie Harmon dropped it in the back of the end zone. Then you felt it again when Norwood was lining up for the kick. By that time, pebbles of doubt were turning to stone. The following years produced unthinkable, merciless, unending, monstrous granite slabs from those pebbles. The Canadiens sweep in '93 when a bounce here or there could have meant a Sabres sweep. Reich's Comeback, followed by a Superbowl trouncing. Up against the Cowboys at the half. Lafontaine and Moginly breaking up. Joe Juneau in Game 6. Brett Hull in Game 6. LeClair's ghoster. The Frank Forward Wycheck. The Rigas Family ledgers. Larry Quinn. Jay McKee's Staph infection. July 1st, 2007. THESE ARE THE MOMENTS OUR DOUBT AND SADNESS ARE BUILT UPON.

Well I'm not taking it anymore. I'm sick and tired of this shit. Year after year after year after year after year after year (see: Steve Goodman "A Dying Cub Fans Last Request") the winds of sorrow blow across the Great Lakes and settle on our collective Buffalo sports hearts. I'm. Fucking. Done.

I don't know what the hell the Sabres are going to do tonight. History oppressively dictates that they will lose. I'm going to suffer through the whole damn thing, biting my nails and on the verge of converting coal into diamonds deep in my esophagus.

I have no consolation or words of support to my fellow fans. We will endure this game, as we always do, in our Buffalo way. We will accept the loss, lament the missed opportunities, and look to the future.